


Enter the Shadows

by flutteringwisp



Series: Duality [1]
Category: Glee, Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutteringwisp/pseuds/flutteringwisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being born to a Light Fae, Jesse was raised by a Dark Fae. When his mother forced him to choose the Light or be cut off, he set out on a quest to fool her and switch sides. On the eve of the biggest audition so far in his acting career, Jesse comes home to see an unexpected visitor who might have the answers to all his problems.</p><p>None of the relationships are strongly featured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shadows in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Lost Girl/Glee crossover universe where Glee characters are set in the Lost Girl universe and are all Fae. There’s a lot of unmentioned backstory because this is taken from my RP group, [Faented Glee](faentedglee.tumblr.com) (still running as of April 2014) but I wrote it to work as a stand-alone piece. Jesse is an ifreet– an infernal djinn that feeds off adoration– with leanan-sidhe ancestry. He was raised by a dark fae woman, but his mother forced him to choose the Light.

Jesse listened to the rumbling of his impala’s engine echo in the garage for a moment before sighing and turning it off. He was exhausted and the feel of the leather seemed heavenly right now. He bet even the concrete would feel heavenly right now. Knowing he’d regret sleeping in his car in the morning, he begrudgingly stepped out with a groan.

He looked forward to Camille’s warm and fluffy body waiting for him on his bed as he slowly shuffled down the cobblestone path to the house. The waning half moon cast sinister, contorted shadows across the forms of the usually majestic crane statues which flanked the open doors to the solarium. He felt the rain begin to fall again as he made the final stretch.

"Camille musta been to lazy tonight," he mumbled to himself as he stepped through. His cat had her own door on the other side of the house through the kitchen, but sometimes she didn’t feel like walking all that distance. As Jesse closed the door behind him, he could hear thunder rumbling again in the distance to join the steadily growing ticks of water on the glass.

The moon was quickly overtaken by clouds, throwing the soft and luminous room into a stale and eerie darkness. He walked up the few steps into the ballroom which was the same. The rest of the house was drowned in a black silence as well, but Jesse liked other rooms that way. He had designed these two rooms to catch the light of the sun and the stars and the moon. They were meant to glitter and glow and be alive no matter the time of day. Midsummer storms didn’t allow that at night, but storms had their own beauty. His footsteps still echoed loudly off the walls and the flash of lightning could turn these rooms into a mystical realm, even if only for a split-second.

Jesse yawned quietly as he walked, but it resonated through the ballroom and came back at him ten-fold. Eventually he reached the opposite archway to the foyer. Usually by now he could hear the dull murmur of his uncle’s TV, but tonight Bernard must’ve gone to sleep early because the only sound from inside was the click of his shoes on the marble.

The thought struck him, maybe he should get a quick nightcap before going off to bed. Jesse paused and pondered the thought before he passed the door to the parlor.

Suddenly, to his right he heard a sort of quick scratch followed by a harsh rushing sound. His head snapped around to see the tiny flame of a match in air of the study. 

Jesse’s body tensed in alert and his pulse shot so high it felt more like a single tone instead of a rapid beat. His fingertips tingled with heat, ready to strike, as he made his way into the study. The match approached the end of a cigarette, faintly lighting the edges of facial features before being quickly sucked and flicked away. All that remained were the dim embers.

When he came through the doorway, Jesse immediately threw his hand at the light switch, illuminating the room. A man with smooth, pale skin and loose raven curls descending past his shoulders wearing a slim suit of silver silk sat in one of the cream-coloured armchairs casually taking drags from a cigarette. 

Silently enraged by the man’s continued entitled attitude, with a cold enmity he bit, “Who the fuck are you?” It was an accusation more than a question.

With what seemed like an amused sigh, the man stood up and fixed his suit. He was moderately tall, about Jesse’s height, and his body was well-built with a thick chest and a lean waist, not dissimilar from Jesse’s. “Come now, Jesse,” the man said in a deep, rich voice. “Don’t you recognize your own father?”


	2. A Man of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues directly after Chapter 1. Jesse learns who his father is.

Jesse felt a surge of emotion assail him; confusion, curiosity, anxiety, disbelief, relief, admiration, fear, but most of all anger. He quickly became enraged and charged at the man claiming to be his absent father. His hair flashed silver and eyes blood red, accompanied by an elongated distortion of his face as he grabbed the man by the neck. His own fury-fueled strength surprised him. 

"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted as he attempted to pour the burning ifreet adoration into the man. "Why the fuck are you here?"

The man simply smiled and began to laugh mockingly at Jesse. He wasn’t choking or struggling to breathe, in fact he didn’t even seem to notice the fingers threatening to crush his throat. “You have your mother’s fire,” the dark-haired man said calmly, “and her eyes.”

Jesse stared angrily in shock at the unfazed face above his grip. This close, he could vividly see every detail. The man’s jaw was strong and square with a gently defined chin. Above rested a pair of slightly plump lips with a gracefully swooping cupid’s bow. Soft divots on either side spoke of the hidden dimples that showed when the man smiled. A somewhat bulbous yet defined nose with a long tip sat between high, apple cheeks. Above those were two cold, lightly puffy eyes like coal-black marquise diamonds set far under a sturdy yet kind brow and tall forehead. There was no denying the man looked like him despite the stark differences in colouring. This fact agitated Jesse further, and his grip tightened as he pointedly snarled, “What do you want?”

Still with unwavering tranquility, the man didn’t react to Jesse’s hold. “Well first,” he started, bringing his hand up to Jesse’s, “you can let go of me.” Suddenly, despite all his strength, Jesse felt his fingers being slowly peeled away. The man didn’t even give off the tiniest groan or have the smallest twitch of strain. Overpowering the height of Jesse’s strength seemed as easy as breathing for him. He gripped Jesse’s hand firmly and pulled it away before tossing it to the side. Jesse tried in vain to fight him every step of the way, but he was too strong, and the boy nearly stumbled after his hand. 

"Now," the man said with a smile as he sat back down, "won’t you sit with me?" He gestured to the chair across from him, cigarette still in hand. 

Jesse watched the man in awe as he took the seat. “Who are you?” he repeated, this time with more sincerity and reverence.

After taking a drag of his cigarette and casually flicking ashes onto the Russian rug under his feet, the man spoke plainly, “Ciaran dé Danann, right hand to the High Elder of the Council of Shadows and personal friend of the reigning Morrigan.”

Trying to ignore the ashes scattered on his hand-picked, $7,000 rug, Jesse listened. His countenance turned grave when Ciaran mentioned his position. Why would such a man be here of all places? What had Jesse done? Surely he wouldn’t come to such a desolate town just to see his illegitimate light fae son. 

"As for why I’m here," Ciaran continued but his tone switched to something more sincere, "Was I supposed to ignore my secret son turning eighteen?"

Jesse couldn’t speak and his eyes fell to stare blankly at the man’s shiny black loafers. It appeared he was wrong, but he was still afraid. His mind swam in a haze of the possibilities and explanations in case the man before him was lying. Ciaran might not even be who he claims at all, but what possible benefit could Jesse be to him?

Ciaran smirked and inhaled from his cigarette again. “I know your birthday was in April, but I’m a busy man and my agents couldn’t legally study you until you were no longer under your mother’s protection.”

Those last four words set something off in Jesse. “Fuck the law,” he quietly muttered.

Ciaran’s joyous face fell into mild shock and confusion. “What?”

"Fuck the law," Jesse said louder, looking back into the man’s black eyes. "You should’ve come for me."

"Jesse, your mother-"

"No," Jesse stood defiantly, and he continued, volume steadily growing, "No, my mother was Sheryl Bipson, not that frigid bitch you fucked nineteen years ago. Sheryl raised and loved me and when she died I had learn to take care of myself." He was yelling now, unable to control the anger rising in his chest, accentuated by the nearing booms of thunder." I’ve lived ten years of my life without a mother and eighteen without a father! You don’t fucking get to walk in here now that it’s convenient and call yourself my father!”

As he listened with an unconcerned expression, Ciaran licked two of his fingertips and extinguished the embers of his cigarette between them. He placed it gingerly on the end table next to him as Jesse finished. He looked up and replied with an underlying chuckle, “Jesse, who do you think arranged for Sheryl to find you?” 

"Oh fuck you…" Jesse quietly exclaimed. "Fuck. You! Get the fuck out of my house!" When Jesse sharply gestured towards the front door, knowing he couldn’t force the more powerful man out by force. Ciaran remained sitting for a few moments, the growing torrent outside filling the silence. Finally, Ciaran stood and lightning flashed outside.

"As you wish." Ciaran began walking out of the study and down the dark foyer. Jesse followed him, hearing the thunder outside become more continuous, the anger in his face never faltering. The man turned the doorknob and opened the door, showing the quick downpour beyond the threshold. He paused and looked back. 

Ciaran called back, “Oh, and I hear you wish to be a turncoat.” Jesse’s resolve faltered at the insinuation, clearly noticed by Ciaran who smirked in return. “I’ll call you.” Lightning crashed again outside, and just as the door began to close, Jesse noticed Ciaran’s form never left the shadows.

Rattled by the entire experience, Jesse quickly went upstairs and sat on the edge of his bed. He desperately mulled everything over, trying to make sense of at least something. But it was pointless.

Just then Camille rolled her head against Jesse’s elbow with a loud chirping purr. He scratched her head and responded, “You’re right, Cami.” He didn’t have time to dwell on this. He had an audition in the morning, the most important audition in his life to date. So he lay against the pillows and tried to forget everything that just happened, clouding his mind instead with lyrics and notes and lines. Soon enough he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Secrets of the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, Jesse and Ciaran talk after a sort of date with Blaine.

Jesse’s nerves shook as he walked towards the dressing room door where Ciaran has gone. For the past week, he had effectively compartmentalized his troubles and forgotten about his father’s long belated arrival in his life. It hadn’t been difficult. The auditions for  _Spring Awakening_  had kept his more than occupied, and then just yesterday he had met the gorgeous and intriguing Blaine Anderson. This afternoon he was finally chosen as Melchior and only moments ago he and Blaine had an admittedly entertaining competition, possibly the most riveting competition Jesse had experienced since his last win at Nationals.  

However, when Ciaran walked into the Corny Cornet, that elated high quickly dissipated, replaced by near-crippling anxiety. Now Jesse was just the simple turn of a doorknob away from once again being in the same room as his father.

Jesse ran one of his hands through his hair, trying his best to calm himself before entering the room. The moment his gaze fell upon Ciaran sitting in a chair on the far side of the room and smoking a cigarette, he remembered everything that had been said almost eight days ago, particularly the insinuations about Sheryl. He felt the anger rise in his chest, but he pushed it back down. Now was not the time.

"You said you would call," Jesse said with a forced tone as he closed the door.

Ciaran smirked and replied, “Well I need to keep you on your toes.”

Just as before, the man’s familiarity set Jesse off. “Cut the shit, Ciaran,” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Why are you here?”

"As you mentioned, I said I would call. Now, do I have to ask you to sit again?" 

Jesse breathed a tense sigh before walking over and sitting across from his father. “How do you know the Donnas?” he accused.

"You are so very impatient," Ciaran laughed. "You should let me answer one question before you ask another."

Jesse scoffed and sardonically retorted, “I’m sorry, did you intend to elaborate?” The dams holding back his anger were brimmed and any sarcastic or patronizing remark by Ciaran was causing some to spill over. 

"Alright, alright," Ciaran surrendered. "The leanan-sidhe are more than just a species, we are an order, and which I am one of the highest-ranking members. That is how I know Jolene and am here; she must answer to me. My position with the Dark Elders doesn’t hurt either." He inhaled from his cigarette and continued, "now, I as-"

"What you said before about Sheryl," Jesse cut the man off, "explain what you meant." 

Ciaran amusedly sighed an rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated by Jesse refusal to let him speak on his terms. “I suppose I did imply some pretty cruel things.” Jesse snorted disdainfully in agreement. “I hired her to watch over you. Bu-“

"I don’t believe you."

"Will you let me finish?" Ciaran spat, for once showing genuine irritation and anger. Jesse remained silent, but pursed his lips. The older man took that as a yes. "I hired her to watch over you, but nothing else. She was merely supposed to keep an eye on you from a distance. Everything else— taking you under her wing, becoming your nanny, raising you as her own— all of that was done of her own volition."

Jesse didn’t have anything to say, mostly because he still didn’t believe Ciaran. “I’m not just saying what you want to hear,” Ciaran continued sincerely. “Fairies don’t let just anyone see their ancient home, especially when they return to die. She wouldn’t have let you go with her unless she truly loved you.”

Jesse solemnly looked into his lap. Images of Sheryl’s funeral drifted into his mind. The old woman’s lifeless body had been lain on a bed of wildflowers. A procession of fellow faires had then carried and flown her out west over the sea at sunset to take her to Tír na nÓg. He hadn’t realized before, but he had been the only non-fairy present. That brought him solace.

After a moment Jesse looked up and said, “Thank you.” Part of him was starting to sympathize with Ciaran. It was different than with his mother. Talia was more than able to be involved, but she couldn’t care less if he had grown up happy and loved, just as long as she didn’t get into trouble. Ciaran couldn’t be there. He was barred from seeing his son, but he broke the rules to make sure Jesse was raised well. “It must have been difficult letting her love and raise me when you couldn’t.”

Ciaran smiled awkwardly and took another drag. After sitting for a moment in silence, he changed the subject, “So, are you still interested in turning your coat?

Jesse swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yes…”

"Are you sure? It’s going to be excruciatingly difficult.."

"Yes."

"Good." There was a dramatic pause. "Because the Morrigan wants to meet you. So do the Elders."

"What?!" Jesse yelled in shock.

"Don’t worry," Ciaran laughed, "If you take after me at all, you’ll do fine. You’ll also have to train, hard."

"Why? I’ve already mastered most of my powers."

Ciaran shook his head, chuckling. “From what my agents tell me, you haven’t even discovered all your powers much less mastered any of them. How far have you teleported?”

"Uh…" Jesse had to think for a minute. He preferred to drive so he didn’t teleport often. "Cleveland?"

"How quickly have you killed?"

Again Jesse was stumped. “I’ve never really kept track but… maybe a minute or two?”

"Have you even been to the Unseen?"

"Well…" Of course Jesse hadn’t. Passage to the Unseen was taught through the generations, and Talia never bothered to teach him. Frankly, from the little Jesse knew about the place, he didn’t have much interest.

"To what extent have you inspired someone?"

Jesse didn’t even know where to begin with answering that, and he was starting to get frustrated.

"How far have you driven someone into insanity?"

"What?" Jesse didn’t know what he was talking about.

Ciaran stopped, finally surprised. “Wait… have you not even discovered that you can drive someone insane yet?” Jesse simply stared confused at the man in front of him. Ciaran discarded his cigarette into an ashtray and sat forward. “Alright, tonight will be your first lesson. Take my hands.” The man offered his hands.

Jesse just sat in silence and suspicion, slightly glaring at his father. “I’m going to teach you how to cause insanity. Come on, take my hands.” Jesse hesitated, but eventually lay his hands into his father’s open palms. A strange chill spread up his arms when they touched.

"Won’t I-…?" Jesse wondered why he was being allowed to damage the man’s mind.

Ciaran shook his head again. “Don’t worry. Now, cxlose your eyes.” Jesse did as he was commanded. “Now, take a moment to isolate that connection you use when you make someone adore you, but don’t use it yet.

Jesse concentrated. He never needed to think about before. He always could just force the adoration into people the instant he touched them and turn it off like a switch. At first he couldn’t help but force some into Ciaran. The man gasped curiously in response. But Jesse withdrew and eventually managed to find the bond without manipulating it.

"Good…" Ciaran sighed, now speaking in a soothing tone"Now, simply reach into my mind," It took him a few moments, but eventually Jesse figured out how to do that. "It should sort of feel like a giant ball of yarn in your palm. Do you feel it?"

Jesse felt around. As he did, he felt Ciaran shiver a bit. Eventually he settled and replied,”Y-yes.” 

"Try pulling one of the strings to unravel the ball." Jesse reached with his mind and tried to pull at one of the strings but it was perfectly taught and refused to budge. 

"It won’t move."

"It’s too secure there, find another." Ciaran’s voice was faintly shaking. Part of Jesse was starting to trust the man and heeded his words, another part simply didn’t care what happened. A tiny part relished in the possibility of irreversible damage, and a slightly smaller part began to feel genuine remorse. But most of Jesse was on fire, completely exhilarated by the experience and the dark feeling spreading from their joined hands.

Jesse felt around for a loose string, and, after finding one, pulled slightly. He felt Ciaran’s grip tighten around his hands and he immediately released the string and retreated completely from his father’s mind.

Jesse opened his eyes to see Ciaran slightly dazed with laboured breathing. Before he could even think, he was imploring, “Are you okay?”

Ciaran gave a breathy chortle. “Yes… Yes I’m fine. You learn quickly…”

Suddenly the tone of recorded bell tolls rang out from the other side of the room and Jesse whipped his head around. It was the clock striking midnight. They had been there much longer than he would’ve guessed.

"Eventually you’ll be able to do that as quickly as your adoring touch."

Before Jesse could respond, there was a knock at the door and Jolene walked in with a fearful and reverent expression. “So sorry to interrupt, sir, but I just wanted to let you know the club is closing.”

"That’s quite alright, Jo," Ciaran forgave, "I must be leaving anyway." Jolene bowed and shot an apologetic glance at Jesse before leaving the room. Knowing things were once again smooth with his friend, the boy smiled to himself as his father stood and adjusted his dark slate blue suit. "Will you allow me a more pleasant goodbye than our last, Jesse?"

Jesse turned back at the affectionate way Ciaran said his name. He stood and offered his hand for a shake. Ciaran gladly took it with a debonair grin. “Shall I call you for another lesson soon?”

"Will you actually call this time?" Jesse joked. Ciaran gently chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door. They hadn’t need to say anything more to understand. The older man looked back at his son before leaving. Jesse might be more confused and unsure than after their last meeting, but at least he felt like he might have just gained a father.


	4. The Darkest of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple weeks later, Blaine and Jesse have started dating and Ciaran finally offers to set up a meeting between Jesse and the Morrígan, as well as another entity.

After finishing a cup of Earl Grey that morning, Jesse decided to do a routine workout. He practiced various ballet techniques, stringing a few together here and there for endurance, but it was by no means organized choreography. About an hour in, he was practicing a set of fouetté jeté, sweat flinging from his curls across his brow, when he heard his phone ring from the edge of the stage. 

Jesse sighed in frustration, coming to rest. He walked over and took up his phone, Ciaran was calling. “Hell-” he started. 

"You will meet me at the Morrígan’s home promptly at five-thirty," Ciaran demanded, cutting Jesse off. "Do not be early, do not be late."

Jesse scoffed to cover up the shock, “I can’t meet him tonight! I mean, I’m not even close to being ready. We’ve only had three training sessions and I still barely have a grasp on the grip of insanity.”

"Jesse," Ciaran bit back, "This is not up for discussion. The Morrígan wishes to meet with you so you  _are_  going to be there. You are prepared for this, and if you stumble, I will be there to guide you.”

"I- well I just-," Jesse stammered, unable to come up with a counter-argument. He knew he had to go, one couldn’t simply say no when the Morrígan called. “F-fine, alright. I’ll be there.”

"Good," Ciaran replied with just a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Remember, five-thirty on the dot."

"Yes, Ciaran, goodbye." Ciaran didn’t return the farewell before hanging up. Then a wall of distress crashed into him like a train. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to clean himself up, so he hurried to the shower, pushing his worries deep into the recesses of his mind.

* * *

Dressed in his finest suit, Jesse arrived at the Lopez’s mansion precisely as the minute-hand of his wristwatch ticked over the six. On his way up the path Ciaran appeared from around the corner. They met under the porte-cochére where the nervous Ciaran surveyed an equally nervous Jesse. 

"You look good," Ciaran said, adjusting Jesse’s jet-black tie against his matching shirt, then smoothing the lapels of his navy jacket. 

"Thanks," Jesse replied, swallowing to clear his throat. "This is it, isn’t it? This is where everything changes?"

Ciaran simply smiled fondly, gently patting Jesse’s shoulder. “Come,” he said, gesturing to the door. Ciaran rang the doorbell and sighed, adjusting his crimson and charcoal suit. A frightened-looking maid answered the door and quietly squeaked, “Yes?”

"I believe the Morrígan is expecting us," Ciaran declared. The maid shyly stood aside to let them in and bowed a little. "I will let him know you are here." With that she scampered off down the hall.

A few moments of tense, uncomfortable silence passed before a tall, man with disheveled dark hair in a suit of several shades of black walked in where the maid had left. 

"Ciaran!" the man called, a tight smile breaking across his bronze face, causing his graying scruff to shift and his eyes to squish into tiny beads of onyx.

"Alex!" Ciaran called back striding forward to embrace the taller man, "How are you? Hey," he lightly hit the the man’s shoulder, "how’d that dullahan I referred work out? Did he find that uh… what was she again? A nymph?"

The man gave an obviously forced chuckle and looked down for a split second. “Unfortunately he failed in his task.”

"Really?" Ciaran said. taken aback and putting his hands in his pockets. "He did so well with the hrimthurs and boraro." He paused in thought. "Ah well, no worries. I’ll take care of him for you."

The man’s face grew stern and he responded plainly, “That won’t be necessary. It’s my understanding that a panther-shifter killed him. But now isn’t the time for this.” His dark eyes flicked to glance at Jesse, still standing awkwardly by the door. “She’s waiting.” He turned back from where he entered and a worried Ciaran motioned for Jesse to follow them. 

As they walked, the two older men whispered to each other. Jesse could barely hear them, but he could make out, “It’s not really  _Her_  is it?” and, “It was supposed to be one of the lower ones!” Jesse didn’t fully understand the situation. He thought he was just meeting the Morrígan, who he guessed to be this Alex fellow. Who was this woman?

They were led through the exquisite mansion, unimaginably more elegant than Jesse’s own house, into a distant sitting room. It was dimly lit which was only bolstered by the dark decór, save a single white armchair. A young woman sat there, skin blacker than soot and dreadlocks to match. Her locs were pulled up and twisted into a series of barrel rolls spiraled along her head. The space around her seemed particularly dark, as if the shadows were drawn to her. 

"Is this him?" She asked in a haunting voice as they stepped inside. 

Ciaran and Alex both bowed in reverence. “Yes, Mistress,” Ciaran answered. Jesse stared perplexed and his father turned to face him. “Jesse, may I present the Morrígan, Alexander Santiago Lopez, and the High Elder of the Council of Shadows, Katarina Malori Azarov.”

Alex turned to simply nod at Jesse, while the Katarina stood, her sleek amethyst dress shifting around her body. She walked over with a sardonic smirk, every step so menacing they seemed to shake Jesse’s very soul, and the darkness seemed to follow her. Jesse was terrified and amazed as she daintily offered her hand. Her eyes, such a bright silver they were almost white, bored into his own with a fierce intensity

Jesse hurriedly took her and bowed. “I am profoundly honoured, Your Grace.” He could feel her harrowing eyes survey him as he remained bowed.

Eventually she released his hand and said, “He bears your face, Ciaran.” She darkly giggled and turned away as Jesse raised his head. “Please sit,” she offered as she returned to her seat. Jesse and Ciaran sat on a sofa perpendicular to her and Alexander across from them.

Ciaran spoke first, in confident but respectful tones, “I assume you’re familiar with the circumstances surrounding the boy, Mistress.” 

"Thoroughly. How many humans has he killed?"

"Twenty-three, I believe, Mistress." 

"Is that so? Admirable." Jesse could feel her gaze on him again, but he dared not return it. "I myself had only claimed maybe six dozen lives by that age. How many was it for you, Ciaran?"

"Twenty-five, if I remember correctly, Mistress."

Jesse stared mostly at his hand in his lap while his father and the High Elder discussed him. Eventually his eyes drifted to his shoes, then the carpet, and steadily across the room, but the never strayed in the direction of the woman. He watched the Morrígan sit in silence across from him. At first the man was interested and attentive, but slowly withdrew and dropped his head, a somber expression creeping across his face.

"What’s wrong, Alexander?" the woman asked. The Morrígan didn’t respond, seeming to be lost in thought. "Alexander?" she repeated.

The man perked up at his name, but his countenance turned grave a second later, “Hmm? Oh, apologies, Your Grace. My mind wandered to my daughter.” Jesse’s mind snapping into focus at the mention of Santana. 

"That’s sweet," she responded patronizingly, "but if you could please involve yourself in this important matter?"

"Y-yes, of course," he started, "Ciaran, if this boy is so interested in turning coat, why did he choose the Light in the first place?"

"I’m sorry," Jesse finally chimed in. From the man’s face and the tone of his voice, Jesse could tell something happened. "What’s wrong with Santana?"

"Do you know my daughter?" the Morrígan countered. 

"Yes, now please tell me what’s going on," Jesse repeated, his wording coming out somewhat demanding.

"Jesse!" Ciaran cried in shock at his son’s audacity. The woman merely sat back in her chair and watched the scene unfold before her with sinister curiosity.

"I apologize," Jesse digressed. "We went to school together, I was just wondering."

"Well," Alexander collected himself, "if that’s the case, then you should know she’s run away from home."Struck with an idea, the man continued, “Perhaps you might be able to convince her to come home.”

"Oh…" Jesse was at a loss for what to say. "Thank you for… for telling me, sir." 

"Yes," Katarina agreed, breaking her silence, "if you were to return Santana here the Morrígan would be indebted to you." She glanced over at Alexander for reassurance and he nodded, though there would be no denying her even if he wanted. "And it would be a test of your loyalty to the Dark. What do you say, child?"

Jesse had become lost in concern for Santana. What had happened? “Huh?” he answered. “Oh, um, ye-yes..”

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, somehow without the warmth of excitement. "I believe I’ve heard all I need to hear. You deliver the young succubus to back to her father and that will be your first test."

Anxiety began to flood into Jesse’s lungs as the three officials continued discussing him. This was all happening too fast. He had wanted this so much. For two years he had been searching for any possible opportunity to realign with the Dark. Now he had one, but it all seemed to easy. He didn’t know if he even wanted it anymore. At first it was just a faint doubt once he had befriended Brittany and then Sam, but at the time his desire to be Dark strongly outweighed the importance of those friendships. Then there was Quinn, the fascinating, frigid femme fatale. Turning Dark would only strengthen his friendship with her. She added fuel to his desire.

But then Jesse met Blaine. Blaine, the beautiful, talented, sexy, strong, brilliantly kind, and absolutely adorable phoenix boy. What would it mean for them? He saw the strife brought by cross-divide dating with Quinn and Sam, and Brittany and Santana. Would he and Blaine go through that too? It had never been a problem when he dated dark fae at Carmel, but he also didn’t have a family to object. If he turned to the Dark he would have more than a father, he’d have one of the most important people in Dark Fae politics as his father. After that, there would be no possibility of being with Blaine, probably in any way.

But was the boy worth giving up two years of work? Eight years of being loved by a dark fae, of being raised to think, live, and idolize dark fae? Then he remembered what Blaine had said, and what Sam had said. They wanted to be in his life, they truely cared and appreciated him. Though Sam didn’t, and wouldn’t say it, Jesse was sure the blonde didn’t want to lose him, just like Blaine, and that was more than he could say about any of his friends at Carmel.

But were the worth it? Were they  _worth_  it? Jesse just didn’t know.

And now Santana was in trouble. Then it clicked. The dullahan, a nymph, a panther… The Morrígan had tried to kill Brittany. Somehow he had discovered their relationship and he sent an assassin after Brittany. This was all too overwhelming. Anxiety and frustration began to boil inside Jesse and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Jesse stood up without warning. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry Katarina.” Ignoring the stunned faces around him, he quickly turned on his heel and began walking back through the house to the front door. Through one of the open doorways he saw a finely dressed, older Latina. He guessed she was Santana’s mother and stepped into the room.

"You should’ve stopped him," he struggled to say, "You should’ve helped her." The woman’s already sad eyes began to pool with tears as he left the room and exited the house. Just as he was getting in his car, he heard the front door of the house open and slam shut, followed quickly by the desperate calls of his father.

He wasn’t going back. His entire view of the world had just shattered and the only things left were difficult and confusing situations. He had no idea what he was going to do, he just knew he needed to leave. So he drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome!


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